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|The beginning, I hope, of a story. Let me know what you think.||
The people do not speak of the Fair Ones, they dare not even breathe a whisper of Them. Every wall has ears and even eyes to hear the most hushed murmur and to see the shape of lips that make movement without sound.
The Queen has sheared the foxgloves from the fields and cut the wings off all the butterflies. How dead the Worlds seem without the tales you once told me. How dead the people seem when they turn their hearts and minds away from the Fair Folk.
And yet They continue to live all around us. In the air they spread their wings. I know They are the winds moving through the grasses. I see Them in the flames of the Beltane fires, burning fiercely even in neglect. The trees are whispering Their names, even when the people are not. And the rivers recite the stories of old to those that will listen. I have seen the elementals of earth, air, fire and water, I have worked with Them in ancient magicks. I have seen Them transforming from Faery to Element and back. Quick as the quiver of a pixie’s wing.
I have loved Them with all my heart, as you taught me to Father. But I have loathed Them more. In my heart there lies the burning hatred of accusation, if not for Them you would be alive today… and worse, if not for me you would be alive.
You told me it was a gift.
But it was a gift that murdered you.
I never asked to be kissed by the Faeries, but I was.
|Without Her Wings *||Walls of Sparkling Amethyst *|
|The World *||The Witch Finder, Tarquinn|